Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Something else American garden magazines lack...

Hunky British gardeners! Where's the sizzle in garden magazines, anyway? Gardening is such a deliciously dirty and sweaty activity anyway, so come on--let's see some muscles and some curves! Show us your freckles! Peel me a grape! Between the overripe berries, the outdoor showers, the droning of the bees, the wisteria-covered arbor at sunset--are we really going to pretend that gardening is not an inherently lascivious activity?

Actually, in that spirit, I'm going to share a poem I wrote many years ago when I was quite a bit more focused on poetry than I am now:

Embarrassment of Riches

Harvesting asparagus: no job for a man.You blush at the engorged purple heads that pushthrough the mulch and grow to a respected ten inches.I take the shears and slice off twelve for the steamer.

The fastest growing vegetable, asparagusso common that we eat it as a midnight snack.“We’re out of recipes,” you laugh, eyes wideat the latest crop, running out in your bare feet

to pick a lemon for the sauce. “Enoughwith the vegetables,” the neighbors groanendless sacks of ripe tomatoes at their doors,driving with the windows up for fear someone will

force a zucchini in. Another shipment of seeds.You and I plant frantic rows, circles, clumps.There are twenty five flowering vines in the catalogand we have to choose, fighting tendrils in our sleep

The things you find in your own backyard.It’s a miracle we met at all, wrapped as we werein a tangle of peas, blinded by an early showof fire red sunflowers, six feet tall by March.